Yesterday my post nasal drip went into high gear. Creaky joints, sore throat, low grade fever, and hocking up a lot crap. Think it's time to call in. Now I know what a soccer ball in the World Cup feels like: kicked around and stepped on. Slept on the couch to avoid contaminating the wife any further than she's already been.
I've only slept in one hour spurts, so yeah, a nap is in my future after I take some medicine for this crap.
Forgot to mention it on Friday, but I distinctly saw a smudge of blue on the side of the road. It's been raining all weekend, but I want to check for bluebonnets.
Yesterday I sent the first three chapters off TR to White Bird Publications. Their submission guidelines are tucked away under a tab, but fear not, I followed them to the letter. Of course that involved taking the page numbers and footer at the bottom of the page and putting it on the top. They simply want to see if I can follow directions, so we'll play that tune. After all the editing, I keep telling myself it's not a sure thing. We'll see in a month. In the meantime, I should get to work on the New Orleans adventure that I cut out of the first book. That means I'm going to have to come up with a name for it. There's a saying in the music industry that goes something like this: You have nine years to make your first record and nine weeks to make your second.
So I guess it's a good thing the ground work for the rest of the two books has been laid out.
In the time it took to read that last sentence, I called in sick to work. My wife and I have a system for calling my Clark Kent job involving the speaker phone and her signing to me one handed. It actually works out well. I anticipate the questions and know what the procedure is for navigating the answering service. With that out of the way I can now die in peace. When I'm sick like this, my body shuts down. I tend to go into hibernation mode. Back when I had the chicken pox and German measles as a teen, I recall falling asleep on Sunday and not waking up until Wednesday. There were half lucid moments when I stumbled to the bathroom to relieve myself, but those memories are foggy at best. I have to say I wasn't fully cognizant or aware of my surroundings.
Which brings me to another point. I distinctly recall getting my childhood inoculations and yet I also came down with the mumps when I was a child, German measles during high school, and contracted chicken pox from one of my students in the late eighties.
I'm given to understand there are two varieties of chicken pox strain, but that doesn't explain what happened with the other childhood diseases. Now that it's my turn in the parent seat, and all my girls vaccinations are up to date. That's not to say that my parents didn't keep me up to date on vaccinations, they most certainly did. In fact it was a prerequisite before registering for school.
One can only hope that things are better this time around.
I've only slept in one hour spurts, so yeah, a nap is in my future after I take some medicine for this crap.
Forgot to mention it on Friday, but I distinctly saw a smudge of blue on the side of the road. It's been raining all weekend, but I want to check for bluebonnets.
Yesterday I sent the first three chapters off TR to White Bird Publications. Their submission guidelines are tucked away under a tab, but fear not, I followed them to the letter. Of course that involved taking the page numbers and footer at the bottom of the page and putting it on the top. They simply want to see if I can follow directions, so we'll play that tune. After all the editing, I keep telling myself it's not a sure thing. We'll see in a month. In the meantime, I should get to work on the New Orleans adventure that I cut out of the first book. That means I'm going to have to come up with a name for it. There's a saying in the music industry that goes something like this: You have nine years to make your first record and nine weeks to make your second.
So I guess it's a good thing the ground work for the rest of the two books has been laid out.
In the time it took to read that last sentence, I called in sick to work. My wife and I have a system for calling my Clark Kent job involving the speaker phone and her signing to me one handed. It actually works out well. I anticipate the questions and know what the procedure is for navigating the answering service. With that out of the way I can now die in peace. When I'm sick like this, my body shuts down. I tend to go into hibernation mode. Back when I had the chicken pox and German measles as a teen, I recall falling asleep on Sunday and not waking up until Wednesday. There were half lucid moments when I stumbled to the bathroom to relieve myself, but those memories are foggy at best. I have to say I wasn't fully cognizant or aware of my surroundings.
Which brings me to another point. I distinctly recall getting my childhood inoculations and yet I also came down with the mumps when I was a child, German measles during high school, and contracted chicken pox from one of my students in the late eighties.
I'm given to understand there are two varieties of chicken pox strain, but that doesn't explain what happened with the other childhood diseases. Now that it's my turn in the parent seat, and all my girls vaccinations are up to date. That's not to say that my parents didn't keep me up to date on vaccinations, they most certainly did. In fact it was a prerequisite before registering for school.
One can only hope that things are better this time around.
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